Concentration Matters
by usernamemcgee
Summary: A moment of carelessness leads to Nero and Diabolous pretending to be a couple. Nero finds this hilarious. Diabolous less so. T for almost swearing and minor gore. Doesn't have to be read as romantic if you don't want it to be.


It takes only a second of lapse concentration to allow chaos to take root. A second of clumsiness can easily lead to the sudden deaths of people in their kind of work, or the people around them. Even the best laid plans can turn to absolute hell if not instigated _perfectly._ The world lives in a fragile balance that is not maintained by people who aren't paying attention.

All this Diabolous told Nero in the hotel elevator, while Nero didn't bother to hide a gleefully wicked grin.

"Frankly, Diabolous," Nero interrupted, maintaining his gleaming smile, "I'm offended by how badly you're taking this."

"You said we're married! How am I supposed to take it?"

"I already told you, I normally go places with Raven and we say we're a couple, it was a natural reflex."

"It was a natural reflex that has landed us with a single bed," fumed Diabolous.

"You're being unappreciative Diabolous; I'd love to sleep with me."

"Don't say we're sleeping together-"

"Sorry. Of course we're not sleeping together. We're married, you know how it works."

"You're insufferable."

"You do realise you've never sounded more like we're a couple?"

The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open on their floor. They continued to argue as they made their way to their room.

"Look Diabolous, it's very simple: you can just go back down and book anther room."

"And what the hell would my excuse for that be?"

"You won't be interrogated for a new room, they'll all just assume we've had an argument and we can't bear to stay in the same room," explained Nero as he fiddled with the key.

The room, of course, was heavenly. 5 stars aren't given out for nothing, after all. It looked dangerously comfortable, it was probably easy to suffocate in your sleep in the all-encompassing pillows and duvets of the king size bed, the flowers on the table so fresh that an asthmatic who'd forgotten their inhaler may well not make it through the night, and so exotic looking that there was almost definitely a couple of murderous insects that had made the bouquet their home.

Neither of the pair were impressed.

"So now it's a dysfunctional marriage as well?" complained Diabolous.

"You and you're wife used to book separate hotel rooms," said Nero.

"Yes, and we've been divorced for years and she hates my guts," replied Diabolous, "I honestly have no idea what point that was supposed to make."

Nero sat down on the bed, a tiny smirk still present on his mouth, "coming to bed, dear?"

"Max," Diabolous took a deep breath, "go fu-"

[Some time later]

"So how long have you two been together?" asked the friendly man who Diabolous couldn't remember the name of. Diabolous was trying to figure out if it was a case of him being a bad person or if the man's name was as drab as his personality. And his wife, for that matter, who stood by his arm and didn't say a word.

"Umm, six years," Nero answered and turned to Diabolous, "isn't that right darling?"

Diabolous forced a smile, "no I think it's only been 5, it just seems much longer," he finished another glass of champagne, placing the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

Nero's smile became more rakish each time Diabolous forced out another catty insult. Diabolous' just grew more strained.

"I must say," their new friend continued obliviously, "I'm amazed I've never met you before, Max, I know almost everyone who works in the building."

"I suppose you can't know everyone," Nero responded non-committedly, scanning the room for the man he was looking for, "have you seen Damien North here anywhere? I need to have a chat about, ah, expenditure."

"Surely you can leave that for work, this is a social event. Just enjoy the music for a little while, why don't you?"

"That's my Max," said Diabolous, "complete workaholic, hardly thinks about anything or anyone else."

"Well, uh, there's Damien over there," the man pointed behind them.

"Right, I better go talk to him then, sorry to cut the conversation short," apologised Nero.

"No that's perfectly fine, I'll see you around Max."

"And I'll see you…" Nero trailed off, having forgotten the man's name as well, "… _also_."

The unnamed couple moved away into the crowd of men and women dressed in evening wear, presumably to bore someone else. Diabolous and Nero turned to their target.

"I can't believe you," Nero muttered under his breath, "you complain about getting a second room because you're fake marriage will look 'dysfunctional', but now you're talking to people like we're already headed for divorce."

"Number one, it's _your_ fake marriage-"

"Why, is it real to you?"

Diabolous ignored him, "and two; I was sober then, now I just don't care."

"You sound like your ex-wife," Nero quipped as he tapped North on the shoulder.

North looked around and his eyes widened as he recognised his interrupters.

"What the- what are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Diabolous drew himself up to his full height, leaving North at eyelevel to Diabolous' chest and Nero placed his hand on North's soldier.

"What are you talking about Damien? I got in with the pass that all of your employees were issued," Nero told him in a jovial tone.

"Thi- this is a private function, what are you doing here?"

"Try not to pretend to be so commandeering, North," said Diabolous, "it doesn't really work if you stutter while you speak."

"Look, Mr North," continued Nero, "we just have a couple of questions about some business deals we've heard you've been making that, now this is going to sound funny," he said with a completely straight face, "we don't remember giving permission to _at all_."

"We just can't seem to recollect that conversation," added Diabolous.

Nero placed another hand on North's other shoulder, "now," he said, "is there anywhere quieter you think we could go for a little chat?"

[A little chat, and a little more wine later]

"So," said Nero as he fumbled for the lightswitch, "then Marge turns up and he finds the Swedish guy putting Steve Buscemi's into the, uhh, the, you know, wood chipper thing-"

"Scrumptious, come on…"

"I'm almost done-"

"It's just, you're telling me the entire plot of Fargo, and most of the dialogue."

"Really it's you're fault for not watching Fargo, honey."

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"I can't believe we only just thought of 'honey'."

Nero found the switch and clicked on the lights.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Diabolous checked his watch, "1am, round about."

"I love free bars."

"Me too. If I'm going to be your husband then it's so much easier when I have free alcohol."

"Honestly, Diabolous, you're crushing my self-esteem right now," Nero laughed – no – _giggled_? Diabolous' mind must have been playing tricks on him.

"You just used my name because you couldn't think of a pet name, didn't you, cherub?"

"Look this isn't a fair bet, of course I'm going to run out of pet names before you, you've had practise using them."

"That's a very depressing look into your life. Anyway, it is fair because I certainly didn't spend my marriage calling my wife _nice_ things. Are you admitting defeat?"

"I…" Nero grimaced, "I do."

"Fifty pounds then, hand it over."

"You're rich, why do you care about fifty pounds anyway," complained Nero as he looked for his wallet.

"It's the principle of the thing," Diabolous grinned as Nero passed over the crisp note.

"Diabolous?" Nero said as he collapsed onto the welcoming bed.

"What?" Diabolous replied as he collapsed down with him.

"Why did you care so much that I said we were a couple?"

"I don't know," Diabolous admitted.

Nero let out a long breathe and shrugged, "okay. Do you want to go book that second room?"

"No, I can't be bothered."

Nero sat up, "okay, I'm going to get changed."

"Uh huh," Diabolous cuddled the pillows, prying off his shoes with his toes, his eyes half open as he watched Nero slowly remove his jacket and loosened his tie.

He closed his eyes, and fell asleep almost immediately.

[One dreamless sleep later]

The lights were still on when Diabolous woke up, but the world had that oppressive silence that only came in the early hours of the morning, when no one with any reasonable job was conscious.

He rolled over, and suddenly remembered the events of the previous day.

Nero was lying on the bed facing him, fast asleep. He had clearly given up on the whole 'getting changed' thing pretty quickly; he was almost completely dressed except for a half unbuttoned shirt.

The moment that followed was an odd one. Diabolous felt like he should move to the couch to continue sleeping, but was too tired to get up. Yes, he was too tired, that was it. He frowned slightly as he noticed something about Nero he'd never paid attention to before.

Carefully, gently, so as to not to wake the man, Diabolous reached out his harm and lifted Nero's shirt off him slightly, and he sighed.

He'd never really thought about how many injuries Nero had acquired in his long – probably unnaturally long – life. He recognised a lot of the scars – a short thin sliver that presumably had a twin on Max's back from Zero Hour, thick jagged lines that he could only assume were from his son's little experiment, but what really made Diabolous wince were the spider web of burns that covered part of the man's chest – Overlord's doing.

The memory of the uncertainty Diabolous had felt in the months of Max's disappearance entered his mind; the relief and horror he'd felt when he'd seen Max, in twisted, smouldering body gear; how he'd had to turn away as the medic had cut the melted armour off Max and his skin had – he grimaced at the sickening memory – had peeled off with it…

Diabolous pushed the thought out of his mind, if only to stop himself from throwing up. He had a sudden urge to do _something_ just to… he wasn't sure what he wanted to achieve. It was an indescribable feeling, the sudden realisation that the man he'd always seen as practically immortal had had more dates with death than Diabolous might ever have. Diabolous wanted to move closer, to say something. Something.

But he didn't. His fingers briefly lingered on Max's collar, then he got out of the bed, and spent the rest of the night on the couch, not quite sleeping.

...

Author's Note: Diabolous can be read as bisexual, and Nero as asexual here. Please note that I am an asexual attempting to describe sexual attraction so I have literally no idea what I was talking about at the end.


End file.
